


All Summer in a Day

by Amuly



Category: Glee
Genre: Biting, Clothing Kink, Cuddling and Snuggling, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Frottage, Hair, Hurt/Comfort, Licking, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Roughhousing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine's summer before senior year is a kaleidoscope of new sights and sounds and experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Summer in a Day

 

**5 am**

  
 

Kurt could barely see the road to drive through sleep-weary eyes. Clutching his coffee like a panacea in one hand, he twisted the steering wheel in his right, turning to Blaine's driveway. A jaw-splitting yawn broke his porcelain features as he stumbled out of his car, coffee sloshing almost out and over the lid of his cup, but not quite.

Not to his surprise, Blaine was waiting out on the front porch, similar cup of coffee clenched in his own tired hands. “Hey,” he mumbled, starting down the porch.

“Morning,” Kurt replied. They met at the bottom step, Blaine pulling Kurt into a hug before he could even fret over how they would greet each other. For a long moment Kurt let himself get lost in Blaine's embrace, feeling the other boy tight and warm around him, their coffee cups steaming in the early-morning chill.

When they pulled away Blaine was smiling, a little less sleepy and a little more happy than he had been moments before. “You didn't have to do this, you know.”

“Helping my boyfriend get ready for his first day at his summer job? Of _course_ I did.” Kurt gestured with his coffee cup around the front yard. “So. Where do you want to go?”

Blaine's grin was sheepish. “Well, everyone's asleep, so we can't exactly sing in the house. And I don't think the neighbors would appreciate us belting out a few scales in the backyard at five am...”

Kurt nodded as he sipped his coffee. All of that made sense.

“But,” Blaine continued, “I was thinking: your car's nice and roomy, and it's got that great stereo system...”

Kurt tried his best to look affronted: placing a hand on his hips, tossing his head in shock. “Blaine Anderson: don't tell me you dragged me out of bed this early for my  _car_ .”

At least Blaine had the decency to look shame-faced. “Please? I promise to buy you a whole basket of products from Bath and Body Works with my first paycheck to make up for it.”

Kurt sighed. “Well,” he drew the word out slowly, as if there was ever any doubt he'd let Blaine use his car: smelly bath products bribe or now. “Alright.”

A half hour later Blaine was climbing out of Kurt's car, still cheerfully humming Katie Perry's chorus. “Wish me luck!”

Kurt leaned over toward Blaine, smiling at him in the almost-dawn light that had slowly started to diffuse through the early-morning Ohio sky. “You don't need it, but good luck anyway.”

When Blaine leaned in for a kiss it caught Kurt off guard, and he hardly had time to kiss back before Blaine was bounding off toward his own car, iPod gripped securely in hand. “I'll send you a text when I get off work! Maybe we'll grab a pizza!”

Kurt could only sit, stunned and more than a little flushed, as Blaine pulled out of driveway, waving through his window at Kurt the whole time.

  
 

**6 am**

  
 

_Beep Beep_ .

Kurt rolled over, tugging his mound of comforters and blankets up higher onto his shoulders.

_Beep Beep_ .

Groggy with sleep, Kurt cracked one eye open. What  _time_ was it? The radio clock on his nightstand blinked a dreary six am at him. Well that answered one question.

_Beep Beep_ .

Belatedly Kurt realized it was his phone on his nightstand that had awoken him. His text message tone was going off. Kurt reached a hand out of his cocoon of fluffy, three thousand thread-count Egyptian cotton blankets and flailed for his cell. If someone was texting him at six am it had  _better_ be important. Otherwise they owed Kurt a basket of facial supplies to make up for the lost beauty sleep.

Tugging his cell back under the covers with him, Kurt blinked sleepy eyes until they could focus on the tiny screen. All three texts were from Blaine. Kurt's stomach glowed warm with the fact. And even better:  _ picture  _ messages. Well . Maybe that was worth the lost sleep.

After thumbing a couple buttons, Kurt managed to open up the pictures. He beamed down at his phone. They were those terrible self-taken photos, with the arm stretched out and the awkward angles. Blaine was in his Six-Flags uniform – which appeared to be made of some sort of terrible polyester cotton blend – grinning like a madman in the early-morning light. The first picture was him hatless, the second with his cheesy uniform cap on, and the third... Kurt blushed. The third photo was Blaine giving his camera phone what Kurt assumed to be “bedroom eyes”, though he had certainly never seen them in their titular context.

Quickly Kurt thumbed a message out to Blaine.  _Your good looks are wasted in that uniform. Now let me get my beauty sleep_ . For good measure, Kurt snapped a picture of himself, half buried in pillows and blankets, his hair a mess and face covered in ugly lines from sleep. He sent it anyway, knowing Blaine wouldn't care.

Sure enough, not even a minute later he received a reply.  _Not that u need it – ur gorgeous enough as it is. TTYL. <3 u._

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine's text speak. But that didn't stop him from clutching his phone to his chest as he fell back to sleep.

  
 

**7 am**

  
 

“I can't believe I let you make me wake up early on the weekend,” Blaine moaned. His head was resting on the coffee shop's table, eyes closed and face looking almost completely relaxed in sleep. Kurt was surprised he was able to talk at all.

“I just thought it'd be nice,” Kurt defended himself. “I hardly got to see you all week, and I figured getting breakfast together would be a nice way to start the day...”

Blaine's eyes opened, and then he was jerking his head up, eyebrows pulled tight together in apology. “Oh, hey, I'm sorry.” He reached across the table to take Kurt's hand in his. “It _is_ nice. I've just been waking up early all week, and you know I'm not a morning person...”

Kurt shifted in his seat, casting hurt eyes down at the coffee shop floor. It looked freshly scrubbed. “Right. Sorry. I know.”

“Hey.” Blaine's hand was tugging at Kurt's and didn't stop until Kurt ventured a glance up. Blaine was smiling – sleepily, certainly, but smiling. Without even a glance around the shop to see who might be watching, Blaine lifted Kurt's captured hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Kurt blushed fiercely. “This is perfect. This is how I'd want to start every day: breakfast and coffee with you.” Blaine paused, smile blooming even more brightly across his face. “Just maybe not so early.”

Kurt's mouth opened and shut as he found himself at a loss for what to say. Now it was Blaine's turn to look embarrassed as he tried to tug his hand away from Kurt's.

“Sorry. That was too cheesy, wasn't it?”

“No!” Gripping tight at Blaine's hand, Kurt refused to let it go. “No.” Blaine's smile returned to his face as Kurt stared earnestly at him, still glowing in Blaine's earlier admission. “Not too cheesy at all. _Never_ too cheesy.”

  
 

**8 am**

  
 

Kurt eyed the t.v. skeptically, even as he curled up on the couch next to Blaine. Their bowls of cereal – and fruit, as Kurt insisted on – sat on the coffee table with their mugs of coffee, which were still steaming.

“I'm telling you, Kurt: it's the best. Just hang on while I find... aha!” Blaine tossed the remote on the couch between them as he sat back triumphantly. Kurt raised his eyebrow at the bright yellow sponge laughing maniacally on the t.v. in front of him.

“ _This_ is what's so great?”

The sponge was talking with a squirrel. Who appeared to be... in an astronaut outfit? Oh, because they were underwater. Right. Kurt supposed it made some sense.

Just as Kurt ventured to take a sip of his coffee, Blaine spluttered into his cereal, laughing hysterically at something on the screen. “Photosynthesis!” he laughed. “Did you see?”'

Kurt nodded. “Yes,” he drew out. “The sponge pretended to a a plant. By lying on the ground and chanting 'photosynthesis'. I hardly see why-”

Blaine was gasping with laughter, cereal bowl set back down on the coffee table as he struggled to breathe. “Photosynthesis! Photosynthesis!”

Kurt shook his head. He had never watched saturday morning cartoons like the other children had, and he certainly wasn't seeing the appeal now. Then again, something that could have Blaine all sleep-ruffled and cuddled up with Kurt on the couch in the wee hours of a saturday morning couldn't be all bad. Especially when their legs were tangled beneath the blanket, and Blaine's sock-clad feet were warm against Kurt's calves.

“I still can't believe you never watched these,” Blaine managed to mumble around a mouthful of cereal, once he had calmed down long enough to eat again.

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. “Saturday mornings were usually for my mom and me. We'd watch musicals:  _Sound of Music_ ,  _West Side Story_ ... stuff like that.”

Blaine's eyes softened as he looked over at Kurt, attention successfully diverted from the brightly-colored cartoons for a moment. “Oh. Kurt, I'm sorry. I didn't know-”

“It's fine.” Kurt shook his head, smiling softly. It really was fine. That was something he had shared with his mom. Now he had new traditions to start and share with Blaine.

Reaching out with his free hand, Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand in his. “Would you rather watch a musical? I wouldn't mind.”

Emboldened perhaps by the early morning light – the way it slanted through the windows and illuminated all the motes of dust in the air – Kurt brought Blaine's hand to his lips and kissed it. “We have plenty of time to watch musicals,” he mused. “But saturday morning cartoons are only on right now.” He turned to the t.v., raising what he hoped was an elegant eyebrow. “But I do hope there are other ones besides this one with the sponge.”

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, the one that's on next you're going to  _love_ . It's these two fairy godparents...”

  
 

**9 am**

  
 

“Didn't we have a talk about early mornings?” Blaine groaned.

Kurt ignored his concerns, bouncing slightly as he waited for the mall doors to open. They were a minute late. “You weren't complaining last Saturday when you dragged me to the couch at eight am to watch cartoons.”

Blaine groaned. “But we were watching t.v.! Shopping requires a _lot_ more effort.” He turned and gave Kurt a _look_. “Especially shopping with you.”

The doors clicked open, and suddenly Kurt found he couldn't care less for Blaine's whining. “Oh shush,” he chided. “You just have to sit there and make approving facial expressions while I try on about a million and one new outfits.” Kurt paused as they stepped through the doors, tilting his head to the side as he considered. “Okay. And maybe I'll make you carry some of my bags.”

“See!” Blaine nudged his shoulder into Kurt's. “I _knew_ there'd be hard work involved.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, already zeroing in on the sale signs on the other end of the store. He snatched Blaine's hand up in his own and started tugging him the direction of those glorious red signs. Blaine whined and dragged his feet, but allowed himself to be yanked and maneuvered around the store. As Kurt started to rifle through the sales racks, Blaine stood the side and prodded a mannequin disinterestedly. “How long is this little expedition going to take?”

Kurt didn't even look up from the rack. “I can't believe you even asked me that,” he chided. “As long as it takes.”

Risking a glance up at Blaine, Kurt realized immediately it was a poor decision. Blaine was making big, brown, puppy dog eyes at him, looking like the most miserable – yet dapper – boy on the planet.

Kurt sighed. “How about,” he decided to try a different tack, “I promise I'll pick out a whole outfit for you, too? Something  _really_ fabulous.” Kurt's mind started to whirl with the possibilities. “We could get you something tight sleeved, to show off your arms. And maybe a dashing little jacket to go over that, so you can dress it up if you need to. And  _jeans_ . There's a Lucky in here, and I  _swear_ their jeans have, like, magical properties sewn into the rears.”

When he glanced up again, it was to find Blaine staring bemusedly at him. Kurt deflated.

“Oh. That's more of a bribe for me than it is for you, isn't it?”

With a sigh Blaine strode forward and wrapped his arms around Kurt, pressing his face into the crook of Kurt's neck. “Yeah,” he breathed. “But that's okay.”

Kurt beamed as he returned back to the sales rack.

  
 

**10 am**

  
 

Kurt's reflection in the car window was looking exceptionally fabulous today. As he was just double-checking the casual – but carefully sculpted – arch of his hair, Blaine's reflection appeared next to his, eyebrows raised in amusement. “We're going to miss our reservation if you keep fussing.”

Kurt glared at Blaine's reflection. “I am not _fussing_.” But then not even a second later Kurt spun on the real Blaine, excitement causing him to stand on his toes and bounce a little. “But brunch, Blaine! At the Ritz-Carlton! This is my first time ever doing something like this!”

Blaine's smile was gentle and sweet. “Mine too,” he reminded Kurt. “Now come on: this  _won't_ be our first time if they put someone else at our table. And I didn't drive almost three hours into Cleveland just to drive right back.” 

Blaine extended his arm to Kurt, who practically swooned as he delicately placed his hand on Blaine's bicep and let himself be guided into the Ritz-Carlton. “We're like Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracey,” he breathed as they stepped through the doors, held open by doormen. He could feel Blaine smiling indulgently at him, but Kurt didn't care: he just clung harder to Blaine's arm and absorbed all the glitz and glamour around them.

All the waiters and waitresses were dressed up, and the silverware veritably  _shined_ against the elegant tablecloths. People in jackets and ties and pretty morning dresses all talked quietly, sitting like beautiful little decorations amidst all the elegance. And Kurt and Blaine were now two more of these elegant people!

“Hi,” Blaine stepped smoothly forward to maitre de. “We had reservations for two at ten. Under Anderson?”

At the bottom of his stomach Kurt felt a burst of butterflies at Blaine's words. A reservation for two – under  _Anderson_ . So it might be a little early for making wedding plans and thinking about who would take whose name – or would they do those hyphen-name things? – but Kurt didn't think he'd mind much if Blaine wanted him to take his name.  _Mr. and Mr. Anderson. Mr. Kurt Anderson_ .

Kurt had to reel in his fantasies if only to manage to walk to their table.

And then Blaine pulled out his chair for him. And Kurt almost fainted.

  
 

**11 am**

  
 

When Blaine's foot grazed him for the first time, Kurt chalked it up to an accident. After all, they were both lying on his bed together – Kurt studiously reading one of his summer reading books, Blaine less studiously listening to music on his iPod and sketching out song lyrics – in rather close proximity. Their feet were both up in the air, bellies on the bed, and it was natural that Blaine would be wiggling his feet in time with the music.

When Blaine's feet brushed Kurt's again, and more slowly, more languorously, Kurt began to suspect it wasn't quite so innocent. Dragging one eye away from his summer reading, Kurt glanced sidelong at Blaine. The other boy was the picture of innocence: eyes down on his notebook, head bobbing gently to his music. But Kurt could see the quirk of his lips that Blaine couldn't quite control.

Turning back to his book, Kurt waited, eyes unfocused on the page before him. Sure enough, Blaine's toes grazed his again, drawing a line up Kurt's ankle. Kurt pounced: throwing his legs over Blaine's and tossing his book to the side. Blaine gasped as Kurt rolled him, fingers searching out ticklish sides and pieces of skin.

Blaine's earbuds came out in the skirmish, and his notebook paper crunched beneath their bodies as they writhed, each trying to get the advantage in their impromptu tickle-war. Panting and struggling against the muscular boy beneath him, Kurt managed to maintain his position on top: Blaine's arms pinned above his head with a wrist in each of Kurt's hands, Kurt's thighs squeezed tight around Blaine's midsection.

Abruptly the air in the room shifted from playful to... something. Kurt became all-too-aware of the position he was in, in the way his chest heaved and panted. And he became aware of how Blaine looked beneath him: tousled, hair all askew, eyes wide and chest heaving as he waited, splayed out beneath Kurt like a delicious treat just ready for the taking.

The moment was broken by Finn's heavy footsteps on the stairwell, followed by the boy shouting in: “Hey Kurt, I'm using the shower!”

Quickly Kurt slid off Blaine, glancing at his perpetually-open door. There was an open-door rule at the Hummel-Hudson house: any “persons of interest” – boys for Kurt, girls for Finn – in the rooms meant the doors had to stay open. Kurt hadn't yet grown resentful of the rule... though he was beginning to see why it might prove problematic. One day. In the future.

“Go ahead!” Kurt shouted back to Finn as he and Blaine retook their far-more-innocent positions on Kurt's bed. With one last shy glance over to Blaine, who looked less than shyly back, Kurt returned his eyes to his summer reading. His attention remained elsewhere.

  
 

**12 pm**

  
 

“Alright, who had the hotdogs?”

Blaine jumped up from his seat, plate in hand, as he hurried over to the grill where Burt was cooking an assortment of food. Kurt remained seated, knowing that his veggie burger was going to be the last thing ready.

When Blaine returned and started piling more beans and salad onto his plate, Kurt just rolled his eyes. “You're going to get fat,” he teased.

Around a mouthful of salad, Blaine shook his head. “I'm going swimming after this. Burn off all the calories.”

Kurt rolled his eyes but said nothing. What could he say, when Blaine's chest looked like... well. Kurt certainly hadn't looked _away_ any of the times Blaine had gone swimming in front of him, and it wasn't like he _couldn't_ notice how incredibly fit he was. A few extra mouthfuls of beans and franks probably wasn't going to change that anytime soon.

Distracted by his musings on Blaine's sickeningly perfect chest, Kurt almost didn't notice Blaine picking up his hotdog. Distractedly Kurt sipped from his diet coke. Blaine's tongue flicked out and curled around one edge of the hot dog protruding from its bun, drawing the meaty cylinder in his mouth and then wrapping his lips around it and sucking. Kurt choked, sending carbonated sweetness up the back of his nose.

“You okay there, son?”

Kurt's eyes went even wider as he fought to hide his blush. He could feel Blaine's eyes boring into him, but Kurt refused to look back at his terrible,  _awful_ boyfriend for the time being. “Fine!” he choked. “Just... bathroom.”

With that, Kurt scrambled up from the patio table and raced inside. Just as he slid the door shut, however, he chanced one last glance back at Blaine.

Eyes locked on Kurt's, Blaine fit about half the hotdog in his mouth, past those plump lips of his, before he bit down.

Kurt raced to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

  
 

**1 pm**

  
 

Kurt's feet were slipping on his pedals as he tried to climb onto his borrowed mountain bike. The darn seat was set for Finn – being his bike – and he personally didn't think Blaine had lowered the seat enough, even though he said it was supposed to be that high. Meanwhile, Blaine was biking lazy circles around Kurt as he waited.

“It's okay if you don't know how to ride a bike, you know.”

Kurt steeled his jaw as he hopped onto the seat and pressed the right pedal down. “I  _do_ ,” he grunted, swinging his leg up to press the left pedal down. The bike wibbled and wobbled side to side, but it started moving forward on the trail. “Dad taught me. And I might not have ridden in a while, but there's an idiom about this, isn't there?”

Blaine's shouted warning caused Kurt to jerk his head up just in time to watch himself run the front tire of Finn's bike into a tree. The bike jerked to the left, and Kurt threw his corresponding foot down just in time to keep himself upright. His groin was not thanking him, however.

With the soft sound of dirt displacing, Blaine broke to a stop next to him, concerned eyes not quite hiding the thin layer of amusement under them. “I think we need to write the idiom committee. Tell them they were wrong.”

Pushing his helmet out of his eyes, Kurt stared despondently up at Blaine. “I'm going to have the worst helmet hair  _ever_ ,” he whined.

Blaine laughed and leaned off his bike to plant a quick kiss on Kurt's cheek, helmets knocking into each other. The sound of the helmets clacking together brought a smile to his face, and he sighed as he looked at Blaine. “Could we go for a hike instead? At least I'm pretty sure I can walk properly. Most of the time.”

Blaine reached an arm out and squeezed Kurt's shoulder in reassurance. “Sure. Let's just put the bikes back on your truck and we'll go for a nice walk.”

Awkwardly Kurt untangled himself from his bike and followed Blaine back to the truck. With the bikes successfully loaded back on – and Kurt's helmet hair almost fixed – Blaine held his hand out to Kurt, who took it gratefully.

  
 

**2 pm**

  
 

Acutely aware of the close proximity of Blaine's body, Kurt found it impossible to concentrate on something that rhymed with “Middleton”. The fact that Blaine's parents were out and they didn't have the open-door policy that the Hummel-Hudson house had made Blaine's body next to Kurt's all the more distracting. Blaine's bedroom door was closed, they were lying on the bed together, and the house was completely quiet except for the music playing softly on Blaine's speakers.

Kurt was fairly certain Blaine hadn't turned a page in his summer reading book for a half hour, either.

“Hey.”

Kurt tensed at Blaine's voice. He decided to pretend to finish a chorus he hadn't been writing before he glanced casually over at Blaine. “Yeah?”

Kurt regretted looked over at Blaine the moment he had. Blaine's face was slightly flushed, his eyes tracing a line down Kurt's neck that could only be described as lusty. Before he spoke, a sliver of pink tongue darted out and wet his lips. Kurt swallowed. “You know, we've got the house to ourselves.”

Body thrumming with nerves, Kurt turned his eyes back to his page. “Yup. Good time to get some schoolwork done, with all the quiet.”

Blaine was silent next to him as Kurt forced his pen to move back and forth across the page, although he certainly wasn't writing anything remotely worthy of the off-Broadway stage there. He could feel Blaine's eyes watching him – his body seemed to drift closer to Kurt's even though there was no discernible motion from either boy. The air between their bodies just felt more _solid_ suddenly to Kurt – like there wasn't really any space left at all, even though there was. 

Giving up, Kurt turned to Blaine, worrying his lower lip with his teeth – chapped lips be damned. “I'm just... I feel like I need a chaperone.” Kurt winced. “Am I a freak?”

Blaine's hands were cupping his face in an instant, earnest eyes boring into his. “No. No. You're  _not_ a freak, Kurt. Don't say that.” Blaine paused, rubbing his thumb over Kurt's cheekbone while Kurt let his eyes flutter to the touch. It wasn't that he didn't  _want_ to do stuff with Blaine. He just didn't want to do too  _much_ – and he was fairly certain that once they got started, with no interruptions or adults hanging around, Kurt would very easily give into whatever Blaine wanted him to do, too much or not. 

“What if,” Blaine continued, considering look in his eye. “What if I promised to keep it PG? Just kissing: just what we'd do at your house. And we can keep the door open, too.”

Kurt bit his lip some more, until Blaine moved a hand down to Kurt's lower lip and extracted it gently from his teeth. Kurt's gaze darted up to meet Blaine's, which was open and kind. Kurt nodded shyly. “Door open. And I'm sorry.”

With a soft, soothing kiss to Kurt's abused lip, Blaine bounded up from his bed to open his door. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he reminded Kurt, who nodded.

When Blaine climbed back on his bed, Kurt welcomed him with open arms. Just so long as they stuck to only kissing.

  
 

**3 pm**

  
 

Kurt cheered at the top of his lungs and applauded until his hands were red as Blaine took his final bow at the Six Flags show. He grabbed Mercedes' arm and grinned. “Wasn't he perfect?”

He didn't miss Mercedes' eye roll, but she was smiling good-naturedly, so he let it slide. “Yes, Kurt. Of course. Your man's always perfect.”

Kurt squeaked as the crowd started to dissipate out of the arena. “Come on! We have to go congratulate him backstage!” Kurt grabbed Mercedes' arm and started leading her to the “cast and crew only” doors on the side of the auditorium, ignoring her reluctance.

“Haven't you seen this show like, a million times?”

Now it was Kurt's turn to roll his eyes. “ _Yes_ , of _course_. But it's the first time you've seen it!” When they reached the doors, Kurt pushed them open with the easy surety of someone who had done this a dozen times before – which, of course, he had. 

“Kurt!” A whirl of polyester and hair gel was all Kurt saw before Blaine was in his arms, hugging him to within an inch of his life. For his part, Kurt hugged back just as fiercely. “And Mercedes!” Blaine lifted his head from Kurt's shoulder long enough to to greet the girl hanging out awkwardly by the staff entrance.

“Hey Blaine.” Kurt released Blaine long enough to see Mercedes wave at him. “Great performance.”

Blaine turned to Kurt with an embarrassed smile. “I was a little flat on the second chorus-”

“No you were _not_!” Kurt smacked Blaine on the arm.

“I definitely was, don't even pretend like you didn't hear that note. My _dad_ would have known it was flat, and he's tone def.”

Mercedes coughed. “I thought it was okay?” she ventured.

Blaine waved a dismissive hand. “Well thanks, but the acoustics in the auditorium are pretty forgiving.”

“Hey!” Kurt bounced as he turned back to Blaine, clinging to his arm. “You up for a quick bite before your next performance?”

“Yeah, sure!” Blaine turned back to Mercedes. “Hope you're hungry. Kurt and I have figured out the _best_ place to eat in Six Flags. It's a bit of a park secret.”

Mercedes smiled more naturally as Blaine continued to include her in the conversation. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “That sounds great.” 

Kurt squeaked again with happiness as he continued to hold onto Blaine's arm, chattering rapidly to his boyfriend and Mercedes as they hurried out to a late lunch.

  
 

**4 pm**

  
 

The smell of sunscreen smeared thick over his skin was almost stifling, but Kurt wasn't willing to risk even the slightest bit of skin damage. He was going to have to make a living on his skin one day, after all, and photoshop only worked in magazines: not in live theatre.

“I can't believe you're not going swimming with us.”

Suddenly glad for his sunglasses, Kurt tried to his best to subtly check his boyfriend out. He had just climbed out of the pool: water dripping in rivulets down his chest and into the “v” of his abdominal muscles to his-

Kurt's brain shorted out. There was no way he'd be able to check Blaine out subtly. So he opted for staring just past Blaine to the pool, where Puck and Finn were currently whacking the living bejeebus out of each other with styrofoam pool noodles.

“I'd rather not. I can't risk my sunscreen washing off,” Kurt finally managed.

Blaine huffed, adjusting his bright pink sunglasses as he glared down at Kurt. “You wore waterproof, didn't you?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Still. Don't worry: I've got this month's Italian Vogue.” Kurt patted the magazine on the table next to him. He didn't want to tell Blaine that the real reason he was so reluctant to go swimming – besides the fact that the chlorine was murder on his skin and hair – was that he was afraid of how his body might react with a wet, scantily-clad Blaine wrestling and playing with him in the refreshing water of the pool.

“Fine.” Blaine leaned over Kurt, dripping water all over him. Kurt couldn't find himself able to care: not with how close Blaine was, or the way the sun formed a glowing halo around his silhouette. “But can I have a kiss before I go back in?”

Kurt hesitated, glancing around the busy community pool. Everyone seemed so caught up in their own business, a quick kiss probably would go unnoticed. Taking a breath, he nodded. With permission granted, Blaine closed the gap between him and pecked Kurt quickly on the lips. When he pulled away, Kurt swept a tongue over wet lips. He could taste the chlorine from the pool. Blaine winked at Kurt one last time before dashing off, cannon-balling into the pool right next to Puck and Finn. Both boys shouted and swore at Blaine, before swimming after him in search of retribution.

For his part, Kurt curled up with his Italian Vogue, the taste of chlorine still on his lips.  
  
  


**5 pm**

Kurt shivered as Blaine's mouth peppered soft kisses down his neck. He had never understood why people in movies or shows seemed to enjoy having their necks kissed before: after all, all the action should be on the mouths, right? But then Blaine had extracted his lips from Kurt's own one day and drifted: down Kurt's jawline, just below his ear, to his neck... and oh. Kurt had found he liked that.

The soft graze of Blaine's teeth against Kurt's throat drew a noise out of Kurt's mouth that had him blushing madly. Blaine lifted his head, peering down at a flustered Kurt. “What was that?”

Kurt blushed harder. “I... I...”

A slow grin spread across Blaine's face as realization dawned. “Did you like that?”

With little other recourse, Kurt turned his face to the side and tried to bury it in his comforter. Unfortunately that just gave Blaine further access to his neck, which he used to his advantage: nipping and scraping and biting, until Kurt was a panting mess beneath him.

“Blaine-” Kurt's attempt to get a handle on the situation dissolved into a gasp as Blaine dipped his head lower, biting down on Kurt's collarbone.

“Whoa! That's a bit more than PG.”

At the sound of his father's voice, Kurt finally found it in him to shove Blaine off, tugging at his shirt collar as if to cover the spots Blaine was just lavishing with attention. Burt was standing in Kurt's doorway, eyebrows raise to the hairline he surely once had as he stared at the two boys. Blaine, for his part, was sitting more than a little awkwardly against Kurt's headboard, pillow placed conspicuously in his lap.

“Right, well.” Burt shifted in the doorway before tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “Dinner's ready. You've got five to get your butts down there before I send a search party. And it'll be Finn.”

Kurt nodded furiously. “Alright, Dad. Got it. Please...” he made shooing motions until Burt held his hands up and stepped casually away.

Blaine groaned, falling backwards with the pillow as he clutched it to his face. Kurt noticed a bulge in Blaine's pants before his vision tunneled sharply and he had to look away. Not thinking about that. Not yet.

“I can't believe I'm going to have to have dinner with your dad after...” Blaine groaned into the pillow again, his words muffled. “He probably thinks I'm corrupting his perfect baby boy!”

Deciding that now was the time for action – otherwise his boyfriend might waste away to nothing, refusing to come out for meals ever again – Kurt leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blaine's ear. “How does he know it isn't the other way around?” he breathed, before darting his tongue out and licking a quick stripe across the shell of Blaine's ear.

Blaine bolted upright, eyes wide and pillow forgotten as he stared at Kurt. After only a moment of such close scrutiny, Kurt had to look away, fiddling with his comforter nervously.

“I mean...” his fingers plucked at the material. “You know. I... well. Just eat dinner? Please?”

The bed shifted, and Kurt looked up long enough to see Blaine scooting closer, reaching his hands out to clasp Kurt's. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

**6 pm**

Blaine's shoulder was warm at Kurt's arm as he jabbered on with the girls who had managed to make it out to the Hummel-Hudson Fourth of July Extravaganza. “And I've finished my musical about Pippa! I'll have to do a one-man production of it at the end of the summer, once I've worked out all the stage-directions and choreography. Or we could even use one of the songs for competition, next year!”

Rachel cleared her throat and looked significantly over at Blaine. “Are you sure about that, Kurt? I'm sure Blaine has read your musical, being the supportive boyfriend that he is-”

Blaine cut in. “I have. I'm helping him with the choreography now. Well,” he stopped himself, smiling at Kurt next to him. “More like I'm letting Kurt boss me around the bedroom as I try and perform whatever moves he tells me to.”

There was a sudden burst of coughing from the other end of the table, where Mercedes was gasping into her diet coke. “Sorry!” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Sorry! But... oh my gosh. Blaine! Check what you just said!”

Kurt flushed, bringing a hand up to his mouth just as realization dawned on Blaine's features. Kurt was pleased to see a blush staining Blaine's cheeks, as well. It was good to know he could still get embarrassed about things like that, especially when it always seemed like Kurt was the only one with any hang-ups in the relationship. “I... Choreog... you know what I meant!” Blaine spluttered.

“Anyway,” Rachel patted her hair down primly as she turned serious eyes on Blaine and Kurt. “But should we really be considering songs for competition that Blaine's seen? I mean, he'll be going back to the Warblers next year, and we'll be competing again at Sectionals.”

Kurt bounced in his seat. “Oh! I haven't told you!” He gripped Blaine's arm in both hands as he paused for dramatic effect. When the girls at the table were leaning satisfactorily forward in anticipation, he dropped the bomb. “Blaine's transferring to McKinley!”

A gasp went around the table, before Mercedes, Rachel, and Tina were clapping loudly. “Oh my gosh!” Rachel practically jumped out of her seat. “There's no way we're going to lose nationals this year!”

Mercedes' response was less competitive. “Kurt! Blaine! That's amazing! Now you'll get to be all boyfriends at the same school together!”

Blaine shrugged. “I just figured, it's my last year of high school: why not spend it with you guys? And it's my last chance at nationals, and you guys have the best local track record. Besides Vocal Adrenaline, and last I heard when you joined you had to sign a contract that said you'd forfeit a kidney if you ever left them, so...” he laughed.

“Fuck! Finn, I swear to G-dash-D, I'm going to shove this roman candle so far up your-”

As one the table ducked, just in time for a flurry of roman candle flares to go over their heads as Finn and Puck chased each other around with them, shooting the fiery little missiles at each other as they raced across the yard. In their position with their heads under the table, Kurt smiled over at Blaine, who grinned back. Knowing Blaine was going to be going to school with him in the fall almost made Kurt look forward to the end of summer. But not quite yet.

**7 pm**

Kurt was ready and waiting at seven o'clock for his date. He had a fabulous suit he had made himself: inspired by Alexander McQueen (of course). It was a summer suit, a sandy beige color. It was linen, and flowed just beautifully when he moved. Kurt was inordinately proud of his creation. It wasn't even as complicated as his prom outfit had been, but it had a sort of casual elegance that his prom outfit hadn't.

When the doorbell rang Kurt leapt up from the couch, throwing it open. A dapper Blaine met him on the other side, and Kurt's breath escaped him. He hadn't seen Blaine in a suit all summer – if you didn't count that polyester monstrosity he had to wear for work, which of course Kurt didn't. And the suit he was wearing was gorgeous. All crisp lines and skinny tie, with a sort of dapper sixties-feel that reminded Kurt of his prom outfit.

“Hey.”

Kurt grinned at Blaine, rocking on his toes. “Hey,” he replied, albeit a bit breathlessly.

Blaine leaned in for a kiss, and Kurt went, wrapping his arms around Blaine and pulling him in close their on his doorstep. Blaine grinned when he pulled away. “Good choice with my suit, then?”

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, still a bit focused on the way Blaine's lips were glistening wetly from the kiss. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Great choice.”

As they walked to Blaine's car, shoulders bumping, Blaine asked: “Okay, so I'm pretty sure I should ask about the suit.”

So Kurt waxed poetic about Alexander McQueen's summer lines and how light suits were absolutely in right now for the casually elegant gentleman and how frustrating linen was to work with because it just had to be ironed like crazy because wrinkles appeared in it more easily than Nicholas Cage in a summer not-buster.

The dinner itself was absolutely magical. Blaine held out the chair for Kurt and they laughed and talked the entire dinner, without a single lull in the conversation. The warm tingle Kurt had in his stomach since before Blaine even arrived at his house stayed with him the entire night, jumping and increasing every time Blaine would laugh at one of his jokes, or lay his hand over Kurt's on the table, or tap their feet together beneath the table.

When the date was over Blaine drove Kurt home and walked him to the door. Without a moment's hesitation Kurt turned to Blaine on the front porch and tugged him into a long, languorous kiss: all lazy tongues and soft lips pressing and sucking in such a way that made Kurt feel like they never had to stop, like they could just stay connected at the mouth forever.

Unfortunately reality intruded, in the form of Kurt's front door opening and Burt tapping an impatient foot. “Okay, boys. It's been five minutes. I think that's enough.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but allowed Blaine to pull him into one last embrace. His breath was warm against Kurt's ear as whispered: “It'll never be enough.”

Those few words were enough to keep the butterflies in Kurt's stomach alive until Kurt saw Blaine again two days later.

**8 pm**

Kurt's stomach flipped and squirmed and he kind of felt like he might barf as Blaine put his car in park on a deserted old road in the middle of a field. Music was drifting softly from the radio, so soft that it didn't even obscure the sounds of a million crickets chirping around them on the warm summer night. Kurt stared out Blaine's car window and tried to see if he could spot one.

“So...” Kurt didn't turn around when Blaine spoke. “That was fun. Dinner and everything.” Kurt hummed noncommittally as Blaine continued to speak. “I know Breadstix isn't exactly as fancy as last week's dinner, but...”

Kurt hummed again. There might have been a cricket on that blade of grass a dozen feet out. Maybe?

“Kurt. Will you look at me, please?”

Reluctantly Kurt turned to Blaine, shrinking back into the door a little.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know.”

All the air felt like it left Kurt's lungs in rush. He smiled crookedly at Blaine. “It's not that I don't want to...” He paused, trying to get a handle on his feelings. They had made out before on his bed, and less often on Blaine's, so it wasn't like he didn't want to do that. He liked that. But... “Out here, alone, it's... there's no one to stop us?”

Blaine's smile was soft in the glow from his dashboard lights. “That's kind of the point.”

Kurt fiddled with the thread on Blaine's leather upholstery. “But... I'm not... I don't want to... yet,” he finished weakly.

There was a moment of relative silence, and Kurt continued to fiddle with the upholstery, and the radio DJ came on to announce the next song. Then Blaine was shifting: moving arm rests and doggie bags of food to clear a path to Kurt, who tensed up immediately. But Blaine only reached for Kurt's hand, grasping it securely in his own. “This is all we had to do,” he said to Kurt, eyes wide and earnest in the low light of the car. “I'll never make you do more than this if you don't feel comfortable. I love you.”

Kurt gasped. Hearing those words from Blaine still felt like an electric shock through his system, sending all his nerve-endings alight with a humming awareness. He beamed back at Blaine. “And I love you for being so patient with me.”

Blaine's eyes rolled as he brought Kurt's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles gently. “You act like it's some sort of chore to be your boyfriend.” Kurt thought that when they were back at his house, with his door securely open and Burt or Carole or Finn ready to walk in on them at any minute, he would express his gratitude to Blaine in kisses and light gropes. “It's never a chore,” Blaine continued, smirk dancing at the corner of his lips, “except maybe when you make me carry your shopping.”

“I'm just trying to keep you in shape,” Kurt fired back.

Blaine pressed another kiss to Kurt's knuckles, then sat back and turned up the music a degree. “Not a chore,” he repeated, tugging at Kurt's hand for emphasis.

Kurt nodded back at him, reassured. Then he let Blaine press kisses to his knuckles as they listened to music, until their curfews crept up on them and they had to leave the field behind.

**9 pm**

Kurt laughed as he watched Blaine race through the grass, arms shooting out in front of him to try and snatch the points of light as they appeared. A cool breeze blew over the plains, and Kurt tugged his shrug tighter around him. It might be summer, but the breeze from the north still managed on occasion to infuse a slight chill in the air at night.

“Kurt, come on!” Blaine was a good hundred yards away when he turned to call to Kurt, one arm waving madly through the air. “Catch fireflies with me!”

Kurt wrinkled his nose at the soft, wet ground, but started to take some ginger steps toward his boyfriend. “Catching little flying bugs isn't exactly what I meant by a 'night out',” he teased. This might not be his normal nighttime activities, but Kurt wasn't going to really complain. Not over something that had his boyfriend beaming at him, fireflies blinking on and off around him like a hundred little Christmas lights.

Soft wings fluttered past Kurt's eye as he drew level with Blaine causing him to whimper and shift away. He felt the little bug land in his hair, but as he raised an arm up to bat it away, Blaine's hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Wait,” Blaine breathed, face close enough to kiss. So Kurt waited, shivering a little as he felt the firefly move in his hair.

Blaine's hand left Kurt's wrist as he brought both up to Kurt's hair, cupping them gently. His smile scrunched up his eyes as Blaine brought his hands down, holding the little ball of light in his hand for Kurt to see.

“It made you look like you had stars in your hair,” Blaine whispered. “Like the lights were on you, and you were on stage. Shining.”

Kurt blushed, face going hot under Blaine's attention. Quickly, almost nervously, Kurt leaned forward and pecked Blaine's lips, dropping his face away a moment later.

Before Kurt had time to really work himself up into a bundle of nerves and hurry away, Blaine's hands were on his cheeks – sans firefly – guiding Kurt's face up to meet his. Blaine was still smiling, softly, as he leaned in to return the kiss. Kurt let himself be drawn in.

**10 pm**

Kurt and Blaine made their way through the movie theatre seats, awkwardly shuffling down the rows with their drinks firmly in hand. Finally they managed to reach the two empty seats they had spotted from the stairway and sat down, placing drinks in cup holders and getting settled as they waited for the movie to start.

Blaine's hand was still cool from the condensation on his cup when it took Kurt's in his. Kurt almost jumped but managed to stop himself just in time. Still, he couldn't help the quick look around the theatre to see if anyone was shooting them exceptionally dirty looks. He couldn't see any, and then the lights were dimming for the previews anyway, so it would seem that they were safe.

Blaine's breath was warm on Kurt's ear as he leaned in and whispered to him: “Thanks for coming to see this with me. I know superheroes aren't exactly your thing.”

Trying for an attempt at casual – an attempt that seemed almost impossible, when Kurt's hand felt like it was on fire where it was grasped in Blaine's – he shrugged and whispered back: “Well, any opportunity to see Chris Evans with his shirt off is one I'm willing to take advantage of. After all, the Fantastic Four was ages ago!”

Blaine's laugh was quiet and warm against Kurt's neck, and he found himself shivering at the sensation. Blaine's hand contracted around Kurt's in a quick thank you before he turned his attention back to the screen. Kurt found he couldn't keep his attention on much else besides Blaine's hand in his. Chris Evans' abs notwithstanding.

**11 pm**

When Kurt felt Blaine's bulge grind just barely against his own, he knew he should probably put a stop to this. But Blaine was on top of him, bare skin of his stomach and chest rubbing against Kurt's. His tongue was playing the inside of Kurt's mouth like the most elegant fingers over the most perfectly polished ivory keys. His hands were drifting over Kurt's chest, the occasional finger pad brushing roughly over Kurt's nipples. Like most of the things Kurt had done with Blaine, he found he liked that sensation. More than he really thought it was normal for a boy to, but he found the thought didn't bother him as much as it might have.

With a gasp Blaine tore his lips from Kurt's, trailing sucking kisses along Kurt's jaw and heading south. His breath quickened as Blaine's lips moved over his neck, as his teeth grazed along his collarbone, as his tongue lapped over the pearly white skin on Kurt's chest. But when his lips closed over one of Kurt's hard, erect nipples, Kurt cried out and shoved weakly at Blaine's head. He couldn't do that: he wasn't ready. If Blaine kept licking there, sucking there, or – oh, and didn't Kurt's body just sing at this idea – biting there, Kurt wasn't sure he'd be able to keep control of the fiery sensation between his legs.

“Blaine, please. I can't...”

Big brown eyes peered up at Kurt as Blaine removed his lips from Kurt's nipple. “Sorry. I thought you'd like that.”

Kurt was sure if he wasn't already impossibly flushed, he would have turned red at that. “No, it's... I do like it.” Kurt paused, waiting for the confusion to give way to slow realization in Blaine's expression. When it didn't, Kurt darted embarrassed eyes down his body. “I like it... too much?”

There was the comprehension, spreading across Blaine's face along with a wide grin. Kurt wasn't sure he liked that grin, and his suspicions were proven correct when Blaine dipped his head back down and ran his tongue over Kurt's nipple. “You like this?” he breathed.

Kurt's loud whimper was probably answer enough, but he still forced out a strangled “Ye-e-es.” When Blaine wrapped his lips around Kurt's nipple, Kurt found his hands flying down to tangle in Blaine's hair – though whether it was to push that head away or keep him in place, Kurt didn't even know himself.

Just when Kurt was rationalizing to himself ruining his six-hundred dollar Armani pants, his phone rang. Blaine appeared unconcerned by the music rising tinnily from his nightstand, but Kurt pushed him away and stretched over for his phone, checking the caller ID. It was his dad. Kurt groaned.

“Yeah, Dad?” Next to him on the bed, Blaine groaned and rolled away.

“You know it's eleven, right?”

Kurt glanced over at Blaine's clock radio and found that, in fact, it was. He hadn't realized how long they had been... doing... stuff.

“Lost track of time,” he managed to choke out.

“Yeah, well, here's me reminding you of it: your butt needs to be on the front porch at eleven thirty. Which means put your pants back on and get in Blaine's fancy little car now.”

“Dad!” His dad's assumption was made inordinately worse by the fact that Kurt may or may not have been considering divesting himself of said pants not a minute earlier.

“And just in case that wasn't enough to kill the mood: me and Carole had old person sex in the shower this morning.”

Kurt wanted to vomit. He could hear Carole's indignant “Burt!” in the background, and his dad's evil evil evil laugh in the foreground. “Alright! Dad! Half an hour! We'll be there!”

Kurt slammed his phone shut and threw it onto the bed before his dad could say anything else traumatizing. Blaine was listing lazily on the sheets next to Kurt, eyeing up his chest with disappointment clearly written across his features. “Time to go?” he asked mournfully.

Kurt took a breath, trying to erase the images of his dad and Carole from his mind. “Definitely time to go. Dad is way too good at being a mood killer. And I think he likes it.”

Blaine laughed as he leaned forward and pecked Kurt chastely on the cheek. “It's what all dads are born to do: scare off potential suitors and scar their children.”

Peering around Blaine's bedroom for his shirt, Kurt grumbled under his breath: “Yeah, but they're supposed to stop when Prince Charming comes along.”

Popping up from the floor with his shirt tugged halfway over his head, Blaine turned to Kurt. “What was that?” As he tugged his shirt fully on, Kurt could see the grin on Blaine's face. “Did you just call me 'Prince Charming'?”

Doing his best to look casual as he tugged on his own shirt, Kurt rolled his eyes. “Don't pretend like you don't know it, Blaine Anderson. All you're missing is a white horse.”

Blaine's formidable eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he crawled along the bed to Kurt. “Guess I'll have to ride something else, then.”

Kurt flailed and pulled away from Blaine at the innuendo, opting to busy himself with checking his reflection in Blaine's mirror. Though he couldn't deny the way his stomach had flipped at Blaine's words.

**12 am**

Ur keeping me up. iv got work tmrw.

Kurt grimaced down at his phone. He still hadn't managed to cure Blaine of text-speak, much to his eyes' chagrin.

You're the one who wanted to watch Pawn Stars together and text.

A moment later Kurt's phone lit up with a reply: Its so cool! Did u see that cuckoo clock?

Kurt rolled his eyes, but his thumb betrayed him by rubbing his screen lovingly. He was such a sap. His phone lit up again: And I know u liked that coca cola stand.

Even though Blaine couldn't see it, Kurt nodded as he smiled down at his phone. It was so fifties-fabulous! Maybe I'll talk to my dad about a project next summer, before college.

We could do it together. I know enuf to help out.

The smile still hadn't left Kurt's face. I thought you didn't like stuff like that: DIY projects.

Kurt could practically see the shrug in Blaine's next text: id like it if i was working w u.

I thought I was keeping you up, Kurt teased.

Dont remind me. UGK. k. night. Love u.

Sleep tight. Love you, too.

**1 am**

“Feels... good...”

Kurt panted as Blaine moved on top of him, eyes squeezed shut as their hips rolled and moved against each other. Their pants were still on, but Kurt's nerves were so electrified that he swore he could feel every inch of... well... Blaine. Blaine grinding down on him, Blaine's... heat... pressing up against Kurt's answering... heat.

“Kurt.” Blaine was panting into Kurt's neck, kissing abandoned a short time ago when they had lost the motor skills required to fit their mouths together and move their tongues without choking on them. “I'm... if you need to stop...”

“Don't.” Kurt gripped Blaine's shoulder, keeping him in place. As if Blaine was about to go anywhere, with the two of them so close to the brink. “Good,” Kurt managed to force out, even with his eyes tightly closed, fiery arousal growing almost painfully in his groin. “Almost...”

With a breathy whine and a jerking thrust, Kurt felt Blaine go still above him. Kurt panted, still trying to thrust his hips up and find his own release, even as Blaine whimpered with the overstimulation. After a moment of shattered breaths against Kurt's neck, Blaine lifted his head up and peered down between them. “Wait,” he mumbled, glassy-eyed. Kurt felt another surge of arousal at the state of Blaine's face: all blissed-out and exhausted, orgasm-stupid and simply gorgeous.

Then Blaine reached a hand down between them, rubbing awkwardly at the straining bulge in Kurt's pants. Kurt cried out, hips thrusting up into that beautiful, exquisite pressure that Blaine was so perfectly exerting on his groin. His fingers curled in the sheets, mouth dropping open even as no sound escaped. He felt so aroused he swore his body was beyond the ability to make sounds, to do anything, except...

In contradiction to his theory, Kurt came with a whimpering cry, shuddering into Blaine's hand as he felt his penis twitch and twitch inside his pants, wetting the inside of his underwear.

Slowly, slowly, Kurt unraveled, relaxing back down into Blaine's mattress inch by inch. He wasn't sure what to say, now. Should he... thank Blaine? Clean up? Help Blaine clean up? Oh, there was a thought.

It ended up being Blaine who broke the silence first, voice small and a little afraid: “You're going to stay the night, right?”

Immediately Kurt rolled into Blaine, pulling him into a prone hug. “Dad thinks I'm at Mercedes', so yeah. And your parents aren't planning on coming home early or something, right?”

Blaine laughed, voice sounding much more at ease than it had a moment ago. “Not that I know of.” He shifted, pulling away from Kurt and glancing down between them. “Want to get changed into our pajamas? I can even toss these into the wash so no one sees.”

Kurt nodded, yawning sleepily. “We can do that in the morning. We've got all day.” As they rolled off the bed to find their pajamas, Kurt glanced shyly over at Blaine. “I love you.”

Blaine's face lit up as he met Kurt's eyes from across the room. “That's the first time you've said it first.”

Kurt flushed. He hadn't realized that. “Well I do.”

A moment later Kurt found himself wrapped up in a passionate kiss, sticky underwear pushed to the bottom of the list of things that were pressingly important. When they pulled apart, Blaine's hand came up to caress Kurt's hair, hand drifting down until it came to rest on his cheek. “I love you, too.”

When they collapsed into bed ten minutes later – mouths minty fresh and groins blessedly clean – they settled immediately into each other's arms, snuggled against each other from the top of their heads to the tips of their toes.

**2 am**

A warm, heavy weight settled over Kurt, prompting his eyes to slowly open and look around for the source of the comfort. “Hnf?”

Burt's face greeted him as he adjusted the blanket gently over Kurt and Blaine. “Go back to sleep. I already called Blaine's parents.”

Kurt snuffled and shifted back into Blaine, somehow finding a position on the couch where they were both comfortably entangled and not falling off the edge. Blaine shifted with him, nuzzling at the cushions and murmuring something indistinct.

With Blaine's body half beneath his, Kurt felt warm and loved, infomercials on the t.v. providing a comforting, flickering nightlight as he fell back to sleep.

**3 am**

The ground was already dewy with moisture as Kurt picked his way across it, gear in both hands. Thank goodness he had opted to wear the shoes he generally reserved for his dad's shop, rather than try and dress up to impress Blaine. Any of his more fashionable shoes would be ruined by now.

“Don't you think this is far enough?” Kurt tried not to sound like he was whining, but honestly, they must have already walked a mile into this field. Surely it was far enough away from civilization to see the meteor shower? Most of Lima was probably far enough to see the showers, really: it's not like the bright lights of Lima could compare to the bright lights of New York City.

In front of him, Blaine paused, spinning around and looking up, even more gear clutched in his arms than Kurt. “Yeah,” he mused, eyes trained heavenward. “This is probably good.”

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief before dropping his armful of camping supplies. “I do hope you realize that I haven't the slightest idea how to put all this together.”

With a laugh Blaine picked his way through strewn-about supplies and over to Kurt, wrapping his arm around him and drawing him into a kiss. Out here, in the field, with no one else around for miles, Kurt went willingly. When they pulled apart Kurt was short of breath, eyes wide in the near pitch-black of the field. “You know, meteor showers come and go every day,” he panted. “Time by ourselves is more rare.”

Blaine's laugh was loud in the quiet of the field, punctuated only by chirruping crickets. “I've ruined you, you know. Two months ago you'd jump if I held your hand. Now...”

Kurt snorted as he turned on the camping lanterns and started to roll out the sleeping bags. “Like you were Mr. Worldly-Experience. Do I need to remind you of the Great Gap Gaffe again?”

Rolling out his own sleeping bag next to Kurt's, Blaine groaned. “No! No. Okay, I promise not to tease you about your – now virtually nonexistence – prudishness, and you promise never to bring up the Gap again.”

Sitting down on top of his sleeping bag, Kurt checked his watch. “Oh! It's time. Pass me one of the binoculars.”

When the first flash of silvery light streaked across the sky, Kurt gasped. Blaine responded in kind next to him, face hidden behind his own pair of binoculars. “Make a wish.” Blaine's voice was teasing.

“Nothing left to wish for,” Kurt murmured, not even thinking about his response. When Blaine was silent next to him, Kurt's brain had a second to catch up with his mouth, and he dropped the binoculars, blushing. “That was a bit sappy, wasn't it?”

Blaine's smile was illuminated by the dim light of the camping lanterns. “Yeah, well: I might have been thinking the same thing.” They turned back to the stars, watching the meteors flicker across the sky. “You know,” Blaine mused, binoculars still firmly glued to his face, “the shower only goes on for an hour or so. After that we've got hours before dawn.”

Even though he knew Blaine couldn't see it, Kurt quirked an eyebrow over the edge of his binoculars. “Keeping wishing on the stars, and we'll see if it comes true.”

**4 am**

“My bill's going to be huge,” Kurt mumbled. His phone was pressed against his face as he lay in bed, eyes drifted shut hours ago to the quiet lull of Blaine's voice.

“Won't be the only thing of yours that's huge.”

Kurt groaned, rubbing his face to his phone in some sort of sleepy reprimand of Blaine's blue humor. “You wouldn't even know,” he mumbled. “Just because it's bigger than yours-”

“Not by much!”

“Not by much,” Kurt agreed.

There was near silence for a few minutes, just the sound of Blaine's breathing coming through on the line. Kurt felt himself begin to drift, only jerking back awake when Blaine's voice said something over the line. “Hm?”

“You hang up first.”

Kurt bemoaned his fate of having such a wonderful, sappy boyfriend. “We're such a cliché.”

“You won't hang up first,” Blaine's sleepy voice was teasing.

Kurt knew he was right. Which was why, three hours later, he awoke to the sound of Blaine's snores loud in his ear.

**5 am**

“Where are all the clothes I picked out for you this summer? Is there a black hole in your closet? Are you hiding the portal to Narnia back here somewhere?” Kurt's eyes were frantic as he dug through Blaine's closet, searching for something that wasn't one step up from rags or an old Dalton uniform. He knew he had forced Blaine to buy some decent outfits this summer. Where had they managed to disappear to?

Blaine groaned, rolling over on his bed and half-heartedly tugging at his blankets. “How are you already dressed,” he moaned. “When did you wake up?”

“A lot earlier than you.” In a fit of fashion ennui, Kurt threw Blaine's hundredth t-shirt down onto the closet floor. “Though it looks like I should have woken up an hour earlier to make sense of your closet. Didn't you do any planning the night before?”

Warm arms wrapped around Kurt from behind, and he sighed, leaning back into them. Blaine's lips brushed his ear as he spoke. “Sorry. I didn't realize this was so important.”

With a squeak of indignation, Kurt turned around in Blaine's arms. “It's the first day of school! Of senior year! And everyone knows we're together, so what you wear is going to be a reflection on me. I can't have my boyfriend walking around looking like either a tramp or a Dalton student.”

Blaine sighed. He raised his eyes, glancing over Kurt's shoulder at his closet beyond. “Alright,” he said, rubbing Kurt's back reassuringly. “I'm sure we can find something that'll work. Come on.”

Kurt turned back to the closet with Blaine, not sharing his confidence. But maybe he was right: surely there was at least one outfit in here worthy for their first day of senior year.


End file.
